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Rebecca D Apr 12
A solitary canoe,
tucked away in an obscure valley,
is tossed around and carried forth,
on the prancing torrents,
in the grips of harsh winds.

Seamlessly-knitted clouds
hang over the outstretched branches
of the riverside trees,
breaking the most forceful perforation of sun rays,
toughening the beats of raindrops on the wooden canoe.

The mooring post,
once an anchor where the canoe used to dwell in comfort,
is receding and diminishing into a dot in its sight.

Soaked in rains, the canoe sails on,
carrying the flashbacks and memories of warmth as its treasure of life,
hoping when it retraces the route after a rough journey,
that the old dwelling place is still there,
that irreplaceable haven.
I found myself in a cave
   That was not primal,
   That was not home.

The walls were all squared off,
The corners sharp and threatening.
A mechanical buzz emitted in the background,
Dull and incessant summer bugs suspended in still air.

I found peace in running from it -
Laced two cushioned shoes and hit the pavement,
Traversing the black tar path to the nearest cul-de-sac
Where the houses all look the same.

Behind the houses is the woods -
A narrow, jagged sidewalk with a few trees.
That's where you'll find me.
Laying on the concrete platform
For the sewer drain along the creek,
Face to the sky, eyes on a tree,
Happy as I can be in a world that's not for me.
haifa audrey Mar 17
this home won’t stand without the shadows in the basement
they rise tonight
and his wife feasted and slept
curled up on her side of the bed, he pictured her
then, while contemplating how to discard the evidence
he writes her name on the snow
and he is alive for a little longer

and for his daughter too – a name
tucked into his pocket, free of his prior charges
and still warm

the house is now lit and will rest until the stars fade
and she will wait for him
the man entering the house
long erased
and hushed away
Nylee Mar 8
Do I belong to the place
That screams,
echoes
I do not.
Irene Feb 23
... and may the abundance do not starve you, dearest.
safe travels.
and maybe i will be there to greet you one last time, as we need not bid another farewell, forever.
CarolineSD Feb 21
Within the expansion of time and space
Are designs of such grace and fragility
That a minuscule slip in the balance of cosmic,
Nuclear forces,
An imperceptible alteration of the alchemy that is creation
And there would have been nothing and no one to speak of
What it is

“To exist.”

Yes, there is some kind of faultless synchronicity,
A precision fit that
Holds all of

This

The exquisite symmetry of our spiraled, star swept galaxy.

And yet,
Among all of these elements, these forces, these pieces and
Fragmented masses
That seem to find a beautiful, celestial

“Fit,”

I cannot say the same for my own spirit.

I do not think I was well-made for this world.

If there is a home,
A warm place to actually rest
A lighted space in which my heart will not race
And continuously break
As things of substance reveal a mundane emptiness;
The charade behind this endless parade of life,

And when I kneel between the silent pines,
Just by the rushing brook,
And I think I can hear God speak,
If there might be a time that this voice would actually break
Through the deafness of common day,
So that, just once, I could maybe,
Truly understand what it is trying

To say,

And if I could just push the veil away and curl up within
The kind of love that stays;

Then, maybe I would think that I was made by the same forces of Creation that wax and wane the tides;

That beautifully align

The stars.

But right now it feels like any home is very far

Away  

And while, perhaps, there are spirits made just for this place,

I do not know if I belong

Anywhere

At all.
"As you tune your radio, there are certain frequencies where the circuit has just the right resonance and you lock onto a station...Oxygen can be formed by combining helium and carbon nuclei, but the corresponding resonance level in the oxygen nucleus is half a percent too low for the combination to stay together easily. Had the resonance level in the carbon been 4 percent lower, there would be essentially no carbon. Had that level in the oxygen been only half a percent higher, virtually all the carbon would have been converted to oxygen. Without that carbon abundance, neither you nor I would be here."
- Astrophysicist, Hugh Ross

Isn't it funny that within all of the grand design of the universe that created worlds upon worlds and the very possibility of life, sometimes we can feel so ill-fitting? :(
Psychonaute Feb 6
Sometimes I wish I
could go to Hogwarts.
Magic would be
wonderful, but the
real enchantment would
be my House.
I imagine basking
in that Ravenclaw
common room
surrounded by others
like me.
That is the
true fantasy.
Maitsholo Jan 29
A meaningless term
It is misinterpreted to be a building
It is a feeling

I would wonder why I seeked for it for so long and yet haven't found it

It is a feeling of belonging.
The love that raise one
The care that allow one to grow
The support that keep one in hope

It is home
I'm seeking so hard for the feeling of home because at the moment I feel the need to experience it
ashw Jan 19
Do others feel like this every time?
As if it’s something of actual substance,
A real reason to yearn,
A real reason to hunger,
As if for another form of sustenance.
Do others feel like this with a passing glance?
As if you’ve known them from the start,
A true sense of familiarity,
A true sense of belonging,
As if they’ve always weighed on your heart.
Do others feel like this every time?

I never had.
Kennedy Jan 16
it's very simply put:
  "it's not you, it's me."
and it's true,
i fear loving more
than i do less.
i fear using my half
to fill their whole.
i don't want the only one
with a collar
around their neck
to be me.
belonging to someone doesn't sound so bad when they belong to you too.
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